Little Wolf
by equinexus
Summary: DA2 It has been three long years since Fenris walked out on Hawke, but with the encouraging words of a certain Antivan assassin, the Tevinter slave once again gathers the courage to confront his feelings towards the Champion of Kirkwall, Remy Hawke.


_Author's Note: _**SPOILERS AHEAD**. _If you have not romanced Fenris, then there may be spoilers here. You have been warned._

In the caverns of Sundermount he stood, overlooking his companions looting the corpses of the recently fallen lyrium smugglers who had the unfortunate fate of an unprovoked attack. The Champion of Kirkwall, Remy Hawke, knelt alongside her friend, Aveline, comparing and contrasting a pair of gauntlets they had found on one of the fallen. Nearby, the apostate Anders gathered the coins off the corpses, filling a purple velvet pouch full with each drop having a satisfying sound of clink. The assassin they were escorting, Zevran, was disarming the traps he had laid out for those chasing him, possibly saving them for his next encounter with the Crows. Fenris, himself, found purpose in standing guard, wordlessly keeping his observant gaze on the assassin and their surroundings for any _unannounced_ visitors. In the many years he had been on the run from the magister Danarius, he had learned to remain vigilant at all times, paranoid his former master would strike as soon as he let down his guard.

Recently, the Champion had become a great distraction, sufficiently annoying him to no end. They had been travelling together for some time now, and his affections rekindled for her by the day. Not once in his memory had a woman endlessly corrupted his thoughts like she, and he was unsure on how to approach the matter with her. It was her suggestion that he remain in Kirkwall to begin a new life free of his master, and it was from that night on that he could not see a life without her. However dangerous a mission was, he felt the need to remain at her side and protect her from whatever abomination that tried to take her away from him.

It was at this point that Fenris realized he had drifted off into thought, distracted by the lovely Hawke as she remained attentive on sharing their newfound gear. Growing frustrated at having caught himself once again losing a focused state of mind, he lightly growled as he forced himself to look away from her, folding his lean, lyrium-branded arms to his rawhide chestplate to stare off at the cavern wall.

"Excuse me, my handsome friend," called the accented voice of Zevran, drawing his attention to the short, blonde rogue. "I couldn't help but to notice your attention lingered on that fine specimen of a woman."

"You noticed nothing," responded the Tevinter slave indifferently.

"Ah, but on the contrary," exclaimed Zevran with a grin, "I noticed a hesitant man who is unable to approach a longing that could easily be remedied!"

"I don't see how my concerns involve you," he droned as dryly as possible, hoping to deter the unwanted attention.

"I simply wish to share one of Zevran's secrets to win a woman's heart with a fellow elf," remarked the cheery Antivan as he moved to position himself comfortably against one of the cavern's chipped boulders.

"Why do you bother me, assassin? Is there no other for you to pester?" came Fenris's unimpressed tone, a deep scowl setting upon his face, hoping the unwanted visitor would cease and desist.

"You are of a _dark variety_, are you not?" commented the Antivan curiously, examining him carefully and coming to his conclusion. The Tevinter slave was clad in his mossy green tunic and rawhide armor that had been modified to fit snuggly to outline his form. Despite appearing thin, the armor was finely crafted and could protect against even the deadliest blows. It was also customary of a magister's bodyguard to be outfitted so.

"I occasionally glow," muttered the slave darkly, thinking of how his lyrium ignited, engulfing his tanned skin in blue, spectral light. Unknowingly, his comment brought a humored laughter from Zevran.

"Ah! I did not expect such wit from a brooder!" chuckled the Antivan.

"I _do not_ brood," announced the stern elf, his frown deepening.

"Well, let us agree to disagree, no? From my personal experience, which I have had a lot of, I've learned women wish for you to appreciate their features in the form of poetry. As for your Champion, she has the alluring eyes of a temptress and the shapely lips of a goddess, yes? Begin with that! Tell her how they hold you captive and you cannot be free of them," suggested Zevran helpfully.

"Nonsense. A woman such as Hawke would not be swayed by _poetry_," Fenris said disbelievingly, nearly rolling his eyes as he dismissed the claim.

"You think quite highly of her, yes? Then I urge you to act immediately! Life is fleeting and you must take full advantage of what is placed before you. Do nothing, and it will be lost," Zevran said wisely, causing the Tevinter elf to pause and think over the truthfulness of his words. "I have accomplished all that I can, and it is now up to you. May your seduction be a success, my handsome friend," finished the Antivan, bowing slightly to him before wandering off to complete his task of disarming traps. He had set several dozen and it would be some time before they could move on, giving the Tevinter an opportunity to take _full advantage_, as Zevran had said.

Allowing his folded arms to fall loosely at his sides, the elf thought over what the assassin had said, wondering if he could possibly woo Hawke in such a way. After a moment, he began to doubt himself, wandering away from the group to stand at the mouth of the Bone Pit. The act of courtship was something new to him, having never wanted nor had the option to pursue such a relationship during his years of enslavement. Even after his escape, he had never remained in one spot too long in fear of being captured. This meant he was unable to develop a meaningful, trustworthy relationship with anyone. But Hawke, he trusted with his life, silently wishing to become a permanent part of hers, if that was indeed her wish.

"Fenris?" came her sudden voice, drawing his mind away from his trail of thought. He glanced briefly over the feathers of his shoulderpad before looking out at the tracks once again.

"Hawke," he greeted nonchalantly.

"Is everything alright?" she asked with light concern.

"I am content at the moment," he answered in his deep tone as his mossy green eyes settled on the mining rails. There was a brief moment of silence before he heard Hawke step forth to stand alongside him, looking outward to the horizon. Fenris couldn't help but to take in her features, casually glancing over at his formidable companion. The auburn hue of her hair glistened healthily as the sunlight drew out every gold-fleck that flickered in her bright eyes.

"You're quite the nostalgic type," she commented as they continued to watch the horizon, not knowing his attention had fallen on her instead.

"Is that a pleasant way of saying I brood?" he asked, pleased with himself as she smirked in amusement.

"You? Brooding? Perish the thought," Hawke said, clearly resisting a chuckle. "Though it is better that you brood than mope, I suppose."

"_Hm_," hummed Fenris in agreement, turning to face the redhead standing adjacent to him. "I've not had much to mope about since I've been in your company, Hawke. Consider it one of your many good deeds."

"I give the people what they want," grinned the woman, tilting her head at him. "Always happy to help a friend."

Without her realizing it, Hawke's words stung him deeply. Being labeled as her _friend_ was a painful reminder of what he had given up on almost three years ago. On an evening he would never forget, they had shared a night in each other's arms. Giving himself to her in such a way had been first of its kind for him, atleast from what he could remember. It had been an expression of her trust; one of which he had quickly broken. Witnessing the unknown faces of his past, he had been a coward and walked out on Hawke. She had clearly been heartbroken but spoke not a word of it afterwards. Since that night, things between them had never been the same. Not wishing to remain simply her _friend_, he knew it was time to try to make amends, knowing that life was indeed fleeting.

"Hawke," Fenris called quietly, bravely facing the woman once more. She held a sweet, curious expression about her face, waiting for him to continue. "You are not a woman to easily forget, and… would it be too bold to say I have not forgotten that night?"

Hawke's mouth parted in surprise. "You do not seem to think much of yourself, Fenris. You would never be forgotten," she responded firmly first before lowering her voice to a soft whisper. "And I must say, you are not bold enough."

Those words encouraged the Tevinter to continue, taking a small step forward to shorten the space between them. "I was a fool to let you go, Hawke. I was a fool to leave you behind that night. I am a coward and all I could do was run," he admitted dejectedly, meeting her eyes for a moment before lowering them away shamefully. "So many nights I've spent trying to think of ways to make it up to you, and not once have I been successful," sighed the elf, his pointy ears lowering in his deflation. "If I were not a coward, if I were truly bold, I would beg you for another chance to prove myself. If you were inclined to reject my proposal, it was deservedly so."

Unable to meet her gaze, there was a painful silence between them as Fenris's words settled in on Hawke. He could not see her expression in fear that her answer would be there. You could imagine his astonishment when he suddenly felt her warm palm cradle his lyrium-laced chin, raising his head just enough to see her close the distance between their bodies and press her pouty lips to his.

In the moment of passion, Fenris cupped her cheeks in his armored hands, settling his lips more firmly against hers. When their long-awaited kiss began to intensify, he maneuvered Hawke, swinging her about to forcefully press her against the stone wall of the cavern's mouth. She gasped in pleasure at his manhandling, digging her fingers in his colorless hair when his hands wandered down to outline the sides of her figure. Embracing her at the waist, the Tevinter held her steadfast between his body and the wall, not wishing to relinquish the woman he loved so dearly.


End file.
